What's a Mage to Do?
by TheDevimangel
Summary: "I started out a virgin. I think." Rylford Amell finds himself in a situation when he tries to help a fellow mage, but rumors run wild and set him up for a... well, dare I say sacrifice? M!Amell/Cullen/Anders/Etc. Lemons, Smut, and classic circle drama. M


**Note:** New story, trying to keep up with this one and A Gilded Bird. I felt that, since I was writing a Female Amell romance, I have every right to write up a Male Amell romance. Mind you, the two stories may have different themes or ways of writing, because A Gilded Bird is the old age romantic in me, and this one is the new age, well, gay me. Don't worry, I won't cross them, but still, I had to write this for me, yeah? Well, without further ado, on with the show~!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Age, nor do I own the idea of a gay romance. I do, however, own this particularly made character with its particularly made personality. Thank you!

**Description: **Mage Amell, always one to stay out of trouble, finds himself in a mess he's not sure he can get out of. A renegade mage, numerous suitors, and an unusually nervous templar tend to get in the way; what's a mage to do? Warning, Male Amell/Anders/Cullen/Various. Amell doesn't become a Warden, and Anders doesn't get away all that easily.

* * *

Circle life. A living hell, to be sure.

Mages corralled in from the outside, locked away, prisoner to our own power. We eat, we sleep, and we study magic to better control it. So _demons_ can't possess us, or persuade us to do blood magic. Kept in here to protect the world from our dangerous power, held in check by the Maker himself. Or, at least by his most devout of followers. The Chantry.

Chantry. A simple word for some of the most powerful people in existence. With an army of mage hunters, the templars, at their disposal, you'd think they'd wish to take over the world by force. Of course, they wish only peace upon the people, and they always seek to follow in Andraste's footsteps.

So they lock away the mages, throw away the key, and keep us holed up in here until we are driven mad from being cooped up with other eccentric minds for too long. I mean, there is only so much you can put up with until you snap, right? I believe I've done rather well in the past 16 years. I've managed to keep the trouble down to a minimum. I do my chores every single day, no matter how gross or undesirable. I study hard, practice magic with caution and skill. I'm as polite as can be to the templars, kind to my fellow mages, and I listen to people when they need help with their problems. I comfort those who need it, and when an argument is occurring, I tend to step between and pacify both parties. I try to be a basically _good_ person.

But being cooped up in the tower all day left little to do for most mages after awhile. I mean, there's only so much magic you want to learn constantly, right? You eventually try to accrue other interests, knitting, reading fiction or history, you know, hobbies. Well, one of the most dangerous things to give a mage is a tidbit of gossip.

Gossip spreads like a Blight here, starting out small and harmless, but eventually growing to something completely out of control. Martha knitted a pretty little night cap? Why yes, she did!

Martha knitted a night cap for First Enchanter Irving as a gift! Oh, how sweet of her. Such a kind old bird.

Did you hear about Martha? I heard she knitted some rather, hehe, _scandalous_ pajamas for the First Enchanter. I hear they've been going at it for months!

… Now wait a minute. Didn't it start out with Martha just taking up knitting as a hobby? Why yes, dear friends, it did. Everything eventually gets blown out of its original proportion and into three categories. Demons and Blood magic, Messing with the templars, or Sex. Normally the latter, sometimes the second, rarely the first, and a lot of times mixed.

So, you see, I could see where things were going after a certain day of an ordinary week, because I decided to break up an argument that apparently made me the lover of a new templar recruit?

Well… I honestly didn't know what to do.

~*.*~

I had been going to First Enchanter Irving's office, wanting to ask a few questions about a particular primal spell involving lightning, when I felt the air around me crackle with templar energies. Meaning either somebody had been the victim of their holy smiting, or that a pair of magic proof handcuffs had been struggled against with magic. Yelling confirmed my suspicions as I slowly entered the office, and I snorted in disbelief at what I found.

"Anders! We have talked, we have scolded, we have captured you every single time; we have even sent you into solitary confinement, one year of it, in the dungeons! We never use the dungeons! What else can be said or done that will get through to you?" Irving shouted at the man on the floor before the group. Two helmeted templars stood at either side of the man, behind him, and Greagoir, Knight Commander, stood near Irving with his arms crossed and looking absolutely _pissed_.

The man on the floor happened to be the Tower renegade, Anders. No first name, no last name, just Anders. Early twenties, prominent nose, virtual 5 o' clock shadow, dark strawberry blonde hair tucked into a short ponytail in the back, and warm, fiery brown eyes. Currently, his head was raised to look into the faces of his captors, a scowl upon his lips. Oh, and don't forget the magic proof cuffs he wore on his wrists. The templars had his chains in their hands, and they looked ready to pull him apart. From the gash rent through one of the men's armor, I could only guess why.

Anders wasn't an idiot. A blighted fool, maybe, but not an idiot. He could escape… if they didn't have his blood. As it was, he looked up at them with a calculating face.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just misunderstood! I mean, who even wants _freedom_?" he spat sarcastically in that accent of his, a little thicker than most Fereldans and with more drawl in it, earning a cuff from one of the templars across the head. "Ow! Watch it, will you? You'll mess up my hair."

"This is NOT a joke!" Greagoir yelled at the chained mage. Anders eyes hardened, yet there still seemed to be some twisted mirth in them. I winced before he even spoke the words, knowing it would be pretty bad. Knowing Anders, it would probably kill him.

"Hardly Knight commander." He said lightly, tossing his head back to get the hair back in place. "My hair takes too long to be such a-." he had nearly finished, before Greagoir had finally had enough. I felt the metallic, unpleasant taste of banishing magic well up from within him, tainted by lyrium and non-natural skill, before he cast it at the mage. He smote Anders with everything he had, draining his mana.

The effect was immediate. Anders eyes sharply rolled and his head snapped back, a gasp forced out of his lungs. His magic fled him briefly, leaving his skin paler than ever before, his eyes without much of their magical spark. He fell onto his side, coughing up a storm as his body continued to react to the harsh attack.

I decided to step in when he struggled to even breathe.

I bent down low, helping the idiot up and into a sitting position, leaning him against my shoulder. "Anders, enough. You'll only get yourself killed if you go on. The more you squirm, the more they will squeeze. Relax and listen to Irving, okay?" I murmured to him. He looked up at me with curious eyes, recognizing only a stranger. He was so pale, so weak all of a sudden, but he nodded. He didn't even have enough left to make a witty remark, which made me a little faint at the situation I forced myself into.

"Mage! This is none of your affair. Leave us, _now_." Greagoir growled, and I felt him drawing on more of that twisted templar power. He pointed a fist at the door, visibly shaking with anger. He had always been such a quick man. Time to smooth some ruffled feathers, kiss some ass.

"Is Anders not a mage then, Ser?" I asked, firm yet distantly polite. He looked taken aback by the question, expecting it least amongst all the others. He had no reason to deal with me in the past few years, and I had given them none. Until now. He was unaccustomed to civility from mages threatened, and I could see the effort he put into not smiting me as well.

"Well, of course he's a mage. He wouldn't _be_ here if he wasn't." he sputtered, gesturing around grandly. The Tower, of course, was his intention. I decided to twist that slightly.

"Yes. He is here. In a _community_ of others such as himself. An individual in his own rights, but lopped together with the rest of us as one mold. Mind you, some people think with striking similarities. But you must ask yourself one thing; What would the loss of one of these mages mean to a Tower already so inflicted by loss and the occasional 'apostate'? Anders has never been accused of Blood magic or dealings with demons. He's always just taken opportunity to escape. He's ran, but you've always found him. He has passed his Harrowing, and his phylactery is already long gone in Denerim. He may cheek you like the bloody fool he is, but both templars and, in our own way, mages look up to you. Your men as a leader, and to us as one of two who decides how we live. Power, Greagoir, is easy to accrue. It is handling it, as First Enchanter Irving here has said, that brings in the issues we face today. What separated you, at the moment you smote him, from the mage right here?" I said, polite yet firm, unyielding to his interruptions. When I had finished, he flushed, eyes blazing.

"I am no abomination!" he shouted, eyes narrowing.

"Of course not. Yet I feel it necessary to remind you… Anders, Irving, myself, and every mage in this Circle was born with this 'gift'. You and your men, however, were given yours by the Chantry. It may not be magic, but it _is_ rather close." I said bluntly, looking around at both the templars. One was staring at me with incredulous eyes, the other seething just as Greagoir was. Irving was gazing at me curiously.

"You go too far." Greagoir said, seemingly calm. It meant I had stepped out of line, yes, but I could dodge back in should he try something else.

"I am merely speaking my piece. You, Knight Commander, went too far the moment you smote an actually _defenseless_ mage, one of your charges, just because he has a mouth too fast for his brain. I mean look at him, he's basically a rag doll." This time, instead of saying it with conviction, I said it sadly, low and sighing. Looking at him with pained eyes. He actually seemed… guilty? Possibly.

"Greagoir… I think we have made our point on young Anders. Though young and foolhardy, he will eventually grow out of it, especially if we find something to occupy his time in a positive way. This need not end in a violent act." Irving soothed, placing a hand on Greagoir's shoulders. The Commander seemed to tense minutely before heaving a great sigh and shaking his head. He glanced back up at me, eyeing me strangely, and then looking lower, into my arms. Anders was shaking slightly. The guilt seemed to brew stronger, and I could tell he was ready to be rid of it. The two templars next to us were both adopting shocked expressions, though one of them still seemed to be frowning.

"Fine. Take him somewhere to rest, but take Radan with you." He nodded to the slightly less drastic of the pair, and he unchained Anders quickly. The mage seemed to sigh in relief as some of the magic he had lost started to return. He still looked deathly pale.

"Thank you, Ser." I bowed my head, struggling slightly to get the quaking mage off the ground. Greagoir sighed again, this time in disdain.

"Don't thank me quite yet." He said, loud and clear. I paused, already turned around. Anders breath seemed to hitch, his lidded eyes opening wider. "You may take him to his chambers, whatever you wish, but know this; should he try to run again, especially so soon after he has returned, you will share his punishment. I am no fool to believe that a little happiness will make him stay content here. Sometimes… you have to think of the bigger picture. I do hope he wouldn't risk punishing you. It might not be as lenient as it has been in the past few years. Your name, Mage?"

Irving had started forward, but Greagoir silenced him with a sharp hand motion. Anders' eyes opened wide, looking at me with confusion and pain, regret it seemed. All the while, I could only stare at the floor, surprised by the turn of events. I had thought my argument, my plea, had been enough to pacify the commander. Apparently, he was used to such things by now. All I could do after a few moments was turn my head and whisper my name hoarsely.

"Rylford Amell."

~*.*~

Irving had shattered the room with his rage after we had left, immediately countered by the Commander. I dragged Anders' weakened body back to the mages quarters, fully aware of the templar staying several feet back. I struggled slightly against the burden while my mind reeled.

Greagoir couldn't truly punish me so severely, could he? I had been an innocent bystander, making a point that had seemed to make an impact. I had done nothing previously in the Tower to warrant such a heavy sentence. Because I knew Anders would try to run again. It was in his nature to run. If he had any decency, I thought bitterly, he would ask me to join him. Not that I would. I hated the idea of being stuck in an unfamiliar place with _mage hunters_ after me! The very thought, the impact of what had been done finally settled with me once we reached his little 'room'. If we hadn't already have arrived, I would probably have dropped the idiot in the hallway and let him crawl his way back….

Okay, maybe not. But I think I had a right to be furious.

I laid him down gently on his bed, trying to keep my temper cooled enough to help him. As I looked around at the far more private living arrangement, I sighed wistfully. My Harrowing would be soon, and though I was scared shitless, I couldn't wait to get my own room if I survived.

"Thank you." Anders muttered quietly, breaking me from my thoughts. I snapped my attention back to him, frowning slightly.

"You shouldn't have baited them. Greagoir looked ready to mark you maleficarum. That means he could have struck you down on the very spot, leaving Irving's carpet one giant, red smeared mess." I scolded sarcastically, huffing a little and shaking my head. I refused to look at him, because if I did, his saddened face and pouty eyes might get to me. Or infuriate me to the point of freezing his balls off.

"I… I know. I wasn't thinking straight. Maybe… I don't know. Maybe I was hoping for something, anything else to happen." He muttered, giving a light hiss as he rearranged himself on the bed. I snapped my attention to him, knowing that sound. It was the sound of someone very sore, and in at least a little pain. But I didn't see any injuries on him. My intuition spiked and cast suspicion on his condition.

"What's wrong?"

He looked surprised, then guarded. "Nothing."

_Yeah right_. "Off." I commanded, gesturing at his upper robes. He seemed to hesitate out of confusion at first, then smirked sheepishly and opened his mouth to object. I put up a hand before he could. "Either you take it off and let me heal whatever injuries you have, or I'll vent my frustration and anger on you in a different way."

He snorted, about to say something else, but the look on my face must have discouraged it. He winced as he started to tug them off, lips pressed tight. I felt a little sympathy for him, but my rage was only partially quelled.

I gasped when he had removed the garments. His torso had the classic Tower pallor to it, but it was unusually broad for a mage's. The focus of my attention, however, was on the sheer amount of bruising and gashes on his body, some of them still bleeding. Where the cuffs had been, there were now bloody, raw circlets of skin. I was pretty sure one of the ribs attached to the main body of his sternum was broken, if not more than two. There was an unusual jutting around the area, and the main bruising had formed there. I glanced back up at him, anger forgotten, but his eyes were averted. I sighed.

"This… may hurt a little." And with that, I started to focus.

Magic was an art, a discipline; if you didn't do it right, the end result could kill you. It also had its own feel, according to who used it and for what. Every mage, or magic user, had their own signature, their print and feel. My own felt like home, a safe place. With it, I felt a connection to an inner spring, a vast pool of energy. It tasted like cool water and, when I used primal spells, liquid fire. It felt like… well, indescribable to you. But if you could feel it, you might see my problem with labeling it.

I knew healing magic, plenty of it. I had adapted rather well to it, fascinated by the body's workings, its condition. I felt the familiar, cool energy build up within my hands, tendrils of energy to assess the damage. I lowered them onto his chest, going towards the most severe wound; his ribs.

It was as I guessed. One of his ribs had cracked, while the one just above it had completely snapped in half. I could see the cracked one jut out, but the truly broken one I couldn't, because it was deeper down. I'd have to find a way to set it without harming him too much, or causing too much pain. I worked the tendrils into a stronger form, allowing them to connect the pieces together seamlessly with magical threads. After that, the pieces had to be reeled together, slowly, and Anders groaned in pain, trying to relax. I sent soothing waves of pain numbing energy into him, letting the bones form back together as I finished up my work. Simple words for something so complicated.

"That takes care of the ribs…." I muttered under my breath, warming my hands a little with fire. They had gone too cool while I was setting him right. He looked up at me and smiled grimly.

"Well, at least they didn't mess with my hair. I was kind of being serious about that." He gritted out as I started to probe his cuts. I laughed a little at his casual remark. I had never actually spoken to him before, only ever seeing him in Irving's office or at a glance in the Tower. It might be a small world in here, but there was always at least one person you didn't know. I couldn't help but to like his wit, even if it's what got both of us in trouble.

"What an odd thing to take so seriously. Does it serve some magical purpose that has escaped us all these years?"

He laughed lightly, wincing slightly as I started to knit his flesh back together. Not that there was much of a problem with it, but it was always safer to go all the way. "Why in fact, it does! It makes my dashing demeanor and charming good looks _that_ much more irresistible. Messy hair? Perish the thought!"

"Consider it perished." I smirked back, running my magic over his bruises. Anders gave a groan as the bruise over his now mended ribs was healed. His forehead was slightly clammy, but after I had gotten the majority of what hurt he released a sigh of relief. I saw that some of his hair had been messed up and tossed in front of his face, a particularly long strand over one of his eyes. I don't know why I did it, but I brought my hand up to push it back behind his ear, feeling strange warmth in my face. "There. Your hair is back to its charming, dashing perfection."

Sometimes, I felt like a blighted fool.

"Why thank you." He smirked, a bemused expression forming over his face. I nodded, looking down and healing the rest of his small injuries. Little cuts melted away, smooth ivory skin bloomed back where the smaller, already half healed bruises were. He watched my work with curiously lazy eyes. "You're rather good at that."

"What? Oh, thank you. Wynne taught me healing a little while ago, and I took to it rather well." I chatted casually, running my hands over his arms, leaving behind nothing but pale, corded skin. Unusually corded skin, with very bright veins.

"I'd be able to heal myself if I had any mana left." He winced briefly, looking up at me with a pained expression. "Don't piss them off that far, alright? I should have known they would have, but… I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. And thanks, for helping. And healing!" he laughed lightly as I finished. I gave him a slight smile.

When he tried to get up, however, I could see the vertigo rush up and knock the wind out of him. I pushed him back down before he could fall over the side of the bed.

"No! You need to rest. You've been through a lot, I imagine, and your body needs time to adjust back to its proper working order." I said sternly. He let out a shaky laugh, making me flush when I realized my hand was still on his chest. His warm, _bare_ naked chest, right over his heart. He put his hand over mine gently, sitting up and leaning in to me. He was getting a little closer than was comfortable.

"Don't worry about it. I've been through much worse." He smirked, his eyes… doing _something_ strange, lidded like a cats. He held my hand, still over his heart, and I felt my cheeks start to burn. He smiled wider, eyebrows raised with amusement. "Are you alright? You seem a little flushed."

"Um, I-I… yes, it just… it seems a little warm in here, doesn't it?" I gulped, trying to keep my stutter down. I was going to add something else, but he reached one of those large, long fingered hands to feel my forehead. I thought he was actually checking my temperature, but when he slid his fingers down my face I felt a little flutter in my chest and a soft gasp come from me.

"No, no, you feel like you have a fever. Here, let me." He insisted, scooting closer until he was practically pressed against me. I would have moved away if I could, but the unknown of what was happening held me in place. He must have gained enough of his magic back, because I felt his own brand spark and surround my face. He started with healing magic, soothing my skin and warming me further, leaving me like soft clay in those long hands of his.

And I still couldn't grasp what was happening. Even when he leaned into my ear, whispering.

"There we go, how do you feel…" he asked, nipping my ear quickly and pecking it. "Now?"

Maker, I couldn't even begin to describe it.

In all the years I've lived here, I never actually had much interest in the mages around me. Most were too busy, too self absorbed, or just not for me in general. I wasn't even really sure if I liked men or women, or both. Some of the girls had flirted with me a few years back, but after awhile they stopped coming onto me when I showed no interest. One guy had even tried to get in my robes when I was in the secluded corner of the library; I politely sparked his hair on fire and said no. I guess I had never felt that spark to tell me what I really wanted. But oh Maker, were there sparks now….

Wait. There _were_ sparks.

Anders was stroking my neck slowly, letting small jolts of electricity run off his fingers and into my body, forcing excited little gasps from me and making my body come to full attention. Even without having slept with someone before, I knew this trick well enough. Everyone in the circle knew it, and it automatically came with living here. I had never felt this heat before, though, and it was frightening in its drive and intensity. For Makers' sake, I was starting to pant and press myself into him, my hands drifting to his arms of their own accord.

"Mage Amell, the first Enchanter requests your presence in his office." A voice called tentatively from behind the wall, the only thing separating them, probably a templar, from us, the two mages nearly getting it on.

When he spoke, I jumped off of Anders like he was the blight itself, breathing harder than normal. Anders cursed the templar, glaring at him through the wall. I gulped, catching my breath, righting myself quickly, and glanced up at Anders. He dragged his eyes away from the wall to smirk at me sadly. I was going to say something, but when words didn't come up, I just closed my mouth and dashed out of the room.

I dashed right into the templar, actually. His shiny armor dug in and hurt like a bitch, and I almost fell to the ground. Almost, but not quite.

The templar reached out to steady me, examining me with worried, golden amber eyes. His hair had been buzz cut, his copper hair grown out a little to curl onto his head. He had, like every man it seemed in the Tower, a shadow over his jaw, ending with brief sideburns and a darker area around his mouth and chin. He had sharp and refined features, I would suppose, and he held himself with ease. After a few seconds, his eyes shifted to the wall where Anders' bedroom was. His eyes tightened slightly, but his face remained impassive.

"Mage Amell? Was there a problem?" he asked lightly, though his eyes still seemed to glare through the walls of Anders' chambers. I flushed a little, but I kept everything else calm.

"Oh no, just finished up healing him. It took a lot more effort than I thought it would." I answered lightly, though my words seemed a little fast, even to me. The templar nodded, slightly appeased. He stood a little straighter and glanced back at me. His face grew a little softer, and his eyes warmed back up. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name…?"

"Oh, i-it's Cullen. Ser Cullen." He stammered, bowing his head awkwardly. I smiled and nodded back, bowing slightly.

"Mage Rylford Amell, obviously. So, Irving needs me?"

"Yes. He wished to discuss your Harrowing, I believe." He told me, gesturing me forth. He walked along beside me, keeping a steady stride, the traditional templar lower robes gliding with his movements. "The Commander left his office in quite a… temper."

I could hear the question in his voice, and the concern that came with it was surprising. "Mage Anders was just brought back in, once again, and the Commander had definitely had enough. He was steps away from ordering the Right of Tranquility, and I had intervened to try to pacify him. Unfortunately for me… Greagoir decided to try a new tactic. Anders might be reckless with himself, but would he be so reckless if his actions caused an innocent to face his consequences as well?"

Cullen stopped at that, glancing over to me with alarm and a bit more worry than before.

"He threatened to punish you for another mage's foolish actions?" he asked incredulously. I nodded, moving forward. He had paused for a moment to process that, but he briskly caught up with me after he was done. "What reason could he possibly have to threaten you, though?"

"It wasn't so much a threat as it was a safety plan to keep Anders from escaping again." I replied bitterly. My earlier resentment of the fact had come back full force, making what happened in Anders room piss me off to no end. Bloody bastard tried to get in my robes, thinking I was easy….

"But he _will_ run again. It's in his nature to disobey order." Cullen said slowly. I shook my head and sighed.

"I know."

"That… that is not a standard way for the Order to react to a situation like this. Perhaps Commander Greagoir felt that those particular words would have a stronger impact, yes? He may not have meant them to you, but as a warning for Mage Anders." Cullen tried to reason. I was already shaking my head before he was done.

"He had full intent, from what I saw. But whatever; maybe I shouldn't have interfered. It is not a mages place to tell a templar what to do." I raised my hands in defeat, ascending to the next floor. I took a brief moment to glance around at the obscene number of steps around us. You'd think a Tower full of mages would have come up with a smoother system of transport, magically at least.

"But you weren't trying to tell him what to do; you were trying to keep the peace. Surely there is no wrong in that?" Cullen asked. He seemed truly troubled by the way the Commander had dealt with the situation. I stopped in the middle of the steps, looking down at the templar, intrigued by his thoughts.

He seemed to be one of the few templars that didn't hate, despise, or even generally dislike my people for what they were born as. He didn't share his comrade's way of thinking, at least not to the letter, and that earned my respect. To him, mages were people, not things or monsters. I smiled, walking on.

"You seem to share different views than the rest of… your friends." I said carefully, glancing over briefly. His cheeks seemed to grow red and he grimaced a little.

"I believe that we were tasked with guarding the Tower for a reason. Yes, we need to protect the outside world from the power of magic, but I think we were also meant to protect those that use magic from a world that would use them for their own ends. Andraste said magic was meant to serve man, not rule over him, and though I believe there is purpose in those words, it is not all she meant for us to learn. Not all mages are the enemy, and most of my order do not believe that." He paused, glancing wryly over at me. "If templars and mages could learn to work together instead of apart, we could be a stronger, better Circle. We don't even try to get along, and that's the part that kills me. We have to protect you too, not just the common people. I'd really rather not hate something I have to protect, right? After all, Hate breeds actions that tend to be… frowned upon in the eyes of the Maker."

My eyes were wide when he was done with his little speech. He seemed to notice my surprised silence, and he glanced back at me as we stopped in front of Irving's door. It was open, but I turned fully to Cullen, studying him again. He was a good man, and I hoped he didn't change too drastically in the coming years. Though every time I looked him in the eyes, the man always seemed to stutter.

"It would be nice... not hating each other." I smiled up at him. I swear, his face seemed to pinken a bit, and he offered a small smile, looking away from my eyes.

"Indeed it would." He said, glancing up at me and gulping. I smiled back with some confusion, 'cause the man was acting unusual, even for a templar. I turned to enter Irving's office only to find Irving himself standing there, tugging at his beard thoughtfully and staring at the both of us. He waved his hand and bowed his head to Cullen, who snapped to attention and bowed back, heading down the hallway. Irving looked around and then waved me on in, silent and looking troubled.

"You wished to see me, Irving?" I asked politely, standing in front of his desk. He motioned for me to sit down, which generally meant something bad was about to be said. I fidgeted a little as I waited for him to say something, and when he finally did it came out as almost a lecture.

"This situation we find ourselves in… is not ideal." He started, taking a seat at his desk, studying my face. "I believe discretion may have been a better course of action in handling Anders' punishment, but I do understand how emotions can sometimes get the better of us and force us to act. Until now, I don't even think Greagoir knew about it, or he would have threatened you a long time ago. Oh, I know it's a tad bit confusing," he inserted when my brow quirked. I had no idea what he was talking about. "But someone as intelligent as you should know that the templars take what they can in… situations, shall we say, like this. Amongst mages it was apparently common knowledge, though I myself hadn't heard much of it before a few days ago. Point being, you should have been more careful child."

At this point, I had a feeling I was missing something _big_, and I probably wasn't going to like where this was going.

"Irving… what are you talking about?"

"Well, I was hoping to find a way to persuade Greagoir to leave it alone, that it was unnecessary to punish you both, but he insisted that it would elicit a reaction from the boy." Irving's said gravely, shaking his head.

"Well yes, I gathered that, but why does he think punishing me will stop Anders?" I asked, dread seeping into my stomach. The toast and eggs I had this morning seemed to be just as out to get me as Greagoir.

Irving looked surprised, then suddenly had this look of pity on his face. "Child, I certainly hope this boy would not expose you to harm. If you think he would do such a thing, it may be best to find something else to better suit your time."

"I doubt hell care, he's a reckless, bloody fool." I muttered angrily. Irving's shock only seemed to grow.

"Rylford… if you feel unsafe in this relationship, perhaps it is best for you to leave him. There's too much that can go wrong in a circle like ours if someone is taking advantage over another. Have you not tried to look for company elsewhere?" Irving asked, but I was only half listening.

He was under the impression I was _with_ Anders. In a more than friendly way.

_You kind of were, almost_ some evil little voice snickered in the back of my mind. Either that, or it was the toast.

"Sir-," I started to protest, but he held up a hand.

"Please, let me speak. I know what it's like, I do remember when I was your age. When someone showed interest in you, you took it up because they may be the only ones who would. I know you think it may get better, and your… let's keep it at affections, shall we? Your affections may be sated for now, but unhealthy relationships here can damage more than just your self esteem. They can cause serious problems and can leave you open to attack from demons and templars alike, with desires and wants that may have been less before. I know he may be some 'raging stallion'-,"

Oh Maker, I was blushing so hard and wishing somebody to kill me right there.

"But carnal activities should never be the focus of a relationship. If you cannot find comfort and solace with the boy, I feel you should look somewhere else." He paused to organize his thoughts, and I jumped right in.

"Sir, I-,"

"No, no, please, let me finish."

"But sir-,"

"Please, Rylford, there are people here who care about you! If Greagoir goes through with his plans to punish you along with Anders, then I'm afraid it _will_ happen sooner or later. It is in his nature to run!" he almost shouted, and I felt my face flush. He was being very, very serious and it suddenly seemed like a bad idea to interrupt. "Please, think on what I've said. There are plenty of other options, better options, here in the Circle. Very few people are picky about whether someone is elf, human, male or female. You need not worry that you are alone. Do you understand?"

"I…." I sighed, just deciding to go with it. "Yes sir."

"And you will think carefully on how you proceed?" He asked, scrutinizing my face for any sign of resistance. I simply sighed again.

"Yes, sir. I see your point." He seemed pleased, and he got up from his desk and walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Good. I will discuss this with Greagoir discreetly and we'll see about convincing him from his current orders, yes? Well then, that is all. Go, rest, think on it and live while you can." Greagoir smiled warmly, and I forced a mild one in return.

I swore to the Maker, if I found out who started this little rumor, I would rip out their entrails and use their blood as paint for my quarters after my Harrowing.

I walked down the halls, muttering dark oaths and angry little curses at the entire situation, passing stiff templars and gabbing mages, headed towards the library. I needed to find some way to calm down and think about what I should do next. Apparently, everyone had somehow assumed Anders and I were an item. The question is, how? I had never spoken a word to him, simply smiled at him in the hallway-

Wait. That might be it. All it would take is for me to smile and him to throw a flirty glance. Anders was known to be rather… provocative on occasion, but those too were only rumours I had heard.

Damn it all to the void, if ever I had wanted a drink, it would have been now. Of course, alcohol and mages don't mix particularly well….

"Hey, Rylford!" a mage called from one of the shelves. It was a man I'd seen every once in a while, sometimes compared notes with him on primal magicks. He seemed like a decent enough guy, so I sucked it up and smiled brightly at him.

"Yes?" I tried to remember a name, but it never quite came to me. Chris? Kevin? Charles?

"I heard about what the Knight Commander did. You didn't deserve to be punished for Anders' foolishness." He sympathized. "It's not easy being with the man. He was always the rebel, and he sometimes lets his need to defy authority get in the way of his common sense."

I quirked my brow at the man. "You've been with Anders?"

He grimaced delicately and nodded after a few seconds. "He's rather… persuasive when he wants something. I mean, I know he's rather, eh, how to say it? He is quite 'capable'…."

"Irving suggested I look elsewhere for sex, yes." I said dryly. The man chuckled a little and blushed at my bluntness. Mages liked to gossip, but actually confronting scandalous matters meant dodging words and giving implied meanings. A lot of the others seemed to think it made it better to just tease about the words, or felt embarrassed about saying them.

"I see." He choked out, his blush kicking up a notch. "People around here tend to avoid saying it quite so fully."

See? Closet pervs, the whole bunch of 'em.

"Must be in the water. People also tend to start rumors and gossip." I smirked up at him. "Before today, I had never actually spoken to Anders or spent quality time in his company before. Just a smile and a friendly wave to a fellow mage. I don't know how or where it started, but I have apparently been sleeping with the man for weeks, if not months, and so loudly that it's woken up most of the mages in the tower. Can't believe I missed it."

The man's eyes sparked to life and he gave a genuine laugh, scratching the stubble on his face and giving a lazy shrug. "What can I say, we're all worse than an old ladies knitting circle." We both laughed at that, corny joke or no. However, I noticed something, a little change in him after I told him the truth.

He unfolded his arms, casually, and leaned into a more comfortable pose, angled completely towards me. He gave an entirely different smile, one less polite and a little warmer. His eyes seemed to take on a curious edge, and he actually did a quick glance of me up and down. I had suspicions on his new behaviour, but they solidified when he glanced around and, after seeing no one, spoke again.

"So… you've not taken to anyone's company lately?" he asked, smirking a little more but opening his face up.

I was honestly shocked. He was actually quite good looking, now that I took the time to care. He had a couple of inches of ashy dark hair pulled up and a little messy, getting shorter as it reached the back of his neck. He had a considerable amount of shadow, like he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and that wasn't half bad either. It made him look more edgy, maybe a little rebellious himself. His cool blue eyes were like spring water, and they had a calm, laid back look to them at the moment, with arched brows and nicely placed cheekbones. His lips were smooth, cocked in a rueful half smile. I glanced him over too and noticed he had long limbs and large hands and feet, with a chest that was more than a couple of sticks with rags on them. He had a nice physique.

He… had a lot of potential. Potential I was suddenly interested in.

"Actually… no, I haven't." I smiled back tentatively. His smile grew optimistic and he seemed pleased. He also seemed a little surprised.

"Well, what a pleasant surprise." He said warmly, looking around quickly and taking a small step forward. "And what exactly would someone like you be interested in?"

"Hm…." I took a brief moment to decide on how I wanted it to go, and then I took a casual step towards him, leaning in and whispering in his ear. "I think I'd like some 'company'. And you?"

"I think I'd probably be bold." He murmured back as he turned his head and caught my lips with his own.

I thought my first kiss would be short and sweet.

I was wrong.

He did kiss me, long and slow, building in warmth as the seconds ticked by. My stomach started to tingle pleasantly, and after a few more seconds we moved closer together. My legs were getting weak and my breathing hitched, my heart pounding a mile a minute. It was getting almost unbearably hot in our little corner of the Library.

He was an _excellent_ kisser, I thought. He was around my height, mayhap a little taller, and he pressed his body smoothly against mine. His scruff rubbed against my cheeks as our lips danced and pressed into each other, making them suddenly hyper sensitive. He took me by the waist and wrapped his other arm around my back and pressed his hand gently against my hair, entangling it in those warm, capable fingers of his. I cupped his face with one hand and laid my other at the small of his back, pressing into him and feeling his arousal press into mine. Between breaths I could smell an unusual mix of bread and hazelnuts.

And then it got interesting.

He pulled back briefly, gazing lazily into my eyes. It looked like he was checking something important, but his lips were back on mine before I could ask what. When his tongue brushed my lips, however, I nearly tore off his robes. He tasted like honey and warm bread, pleasant to embrace with my own. His tongue teased mine when I opened up enough for him to get at it, and he chuckled deeply at my eagerness.

Oh yes, the man was good. And I didn't still didn't even know his name.

He was panting slightly as he took a step back, lingering on my lips for a moment or two. He was smirking happily, eyes still lidded with lust and glazed over slightly. I was pretty sure that I looked just as flushed and affected as he.

"Well…" he sighed happily. "You're rather good at that."

I laughed lightly and pulled my hand through my hair. "Thank you. I'd have to say you're quite good at it too." I waggled my eyebrows a little and looked around. Still no one around, so I stepped back in and pecked his cheek. "We should do it more often, yes?"

"Ha, whenever you want, Amell." He winked, pecking my cheek and rubbing my arms. "I'm in Mages quarter west, the blue rug and the red lion tapestry."

"I'll have to come by sometime, then." I murmured against his neck, nipping at it lightly. He moaned low and deep in his throat, and he chuckled slightly before sighing.

"Templars will be coming around here soon…" he sighed, and I huffed as I let my head fall onto his shoulder.

"Pity. Shall we continue this later then?" I asked, stepping back and smiling calmly. He grinned and pecked my cheek once more before taking a couple steps back.

"Of course. Tonight, maybe?" he suggested hopefully, his eyes twinkling up at me. I smirked, about to lean in again before I heard sounds outside the library. A quick rustling of robes and clanking of armor forced us a respectable distance apart, both of us taking up casual positions of interest. Two templars came in and stood at their posts just as a group of mages walked in, and one of them looked in our direction.

"Hey, Karl, tell Richter that primal doesn't involve portals. He insists you can't cast without a thin veil." The mage called, and everyone in the group but Richter laughed. Karl, as his name apparently was, sighed and held up a hand, looking back to me with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'll have to settle this. See you tonight…?" he somewhat asked, looking a little nervous and shy. There was a light blush on his cheeks, and I gave him a quick wink and nod. He smiled as I left the room, patting his shoulder along the way.

I left feeling excited. I may have been inexperienced, but I thought I had done rather well for a first timer. And Karl… Karl had a _lot_ of potential. He kept clean, looked great, was very polite, and a generally nice guy. Honestly? He had experience, and he didn't mind sharing it with me. I felt that maybe it could turn into something if I did well.

He was also a hell of a lot better than that creeper mage that had tried to force his way up my robes. And far more polite than Anders….

I was thinking about all this as I walked down the halls, headed towards the apprentice chambers, when I heard a random bout of giggling to my side. I cast a casual glance into the room only to see the swishing of children's feet as they disappeared. Apprentices, having set up a prank no doubt. I looked at the walls, then the ceiling, and met success when I glanced down on the floor. I smiled thinly as I spotted a large puddle turned into ice covering the stones, awaiting the next perfect victim to slip up.

"Nice try kids." I called out. "But you could really hurt someone this way." As I finished, the culprits squealed and ran past me, scurrying off and vanishing just as quickly as they had come. I turned to glare after them as they retreated, sighing as I prepared the proper amount of heat required to melt the ice and evaporate it safely. As I was turning back to the puddle, however, I saw a templar with copper hair round the corner. He recognized me and smiled simply.

"Mage Rylford, a pleasure toooOOOAAA!" he started warmly, but the poor man didn't have a chance to finish as he slipped onto the ice.

I was surprised, really, at how events turned when he started to fall. I winced as he struggled to stay afoot, and I looked on in partial fascination, partial horror as he started to skid in my direction. I didn't even have time to think about getting out of his way. He had been able to struggle back onto the normal stone, but the change in friction beneath his feet tipped his balance off and he came into contact with me.

His heavy armor toppled us both, and I ended up crushed beneath him, struggling to breath. This escaped my attention as I opened my eyes.

His lips were pressed quite heavily upon on my own. My eyes had been closed when I got hit, but they were wide open when I registered what was happening. Cullen's eyes were open too, but he didn't seem to notice. He seemed a little dazed.

And he wasn't moving to get off.

I tried ym best to push him off, but my meager strength didn't even register with him at first. When I kicked at his shin, though, it seemed to wake him from his stupor. He got up off of me in a flash, blushing so hard it reached his roots. He tried to stammer and apology, I could see, and he hastily reached down to retrieve me from the slightly wet floor. I myself felt a little dazed after I was pulled up so hard, and it didn't help that I slammed right into his breast plate. I had to steady myself against it, leaning on him as I tried to get some air in my lungs.

He was stammering again, and blushing so hard I thought he would soon turn purple. He had my arms in his hands, and I could feel a steady, rhythmic shake coming through his armor. His pulse was working pretty hard, I thought.

"I-I'm so sorry." He said as steadily and calmly as he could when I managed to gulp in a few mouthfuls. I took a successful deep breath and nodded shakily.

"It's okay… I was actually just about to take care of that. Some apprentices were here just a moment ago, playing tricks." I smiled thinly. "I'll take care of it."

"A-Alright." He nodded hastily. I noticed he was still holding my arms, though rather loosely, and he was standing close to me. _Very_ close to me. Close enough to warrant coughing from passer-bys, if they had indeed passed by.

I quirked a brow at him and felt my face begin to flush a little bit. He blinked rapidly at first, as if he was trying to clear his head, but then he was stuttering and making apologies just as he was doing earlier. He let me go and jogged down the direction he had been headed before our little… altercation.

What a strange man, I had thought.

I wasn't prepared for what happened later that evening.

~*.*~

I was minding my own business, walking down the stairs to the third floor, when I heard a group of mages in a room off to the side speaking in loud, hushed whispers. Contradictory, I know, but there was no other way to describe it. Loud enough to echo, quiet enough to be suspicious. Now, I'm not normally interested in the gossip that flies around the tower, normally because I know half of it isn't true anyways. But as I slowed down, I realized there were a _lot_ of mages gathered around a few candles, passing a small bottle of cider around and trying to get their two cents in.

As I listened, hiding at the edge of the archway, my suspicions turned to irritation.

"Did you hear about Amell?"

"Didn't he defend Anders again? I heard it was the third time this season!"

"No, he left him! Had a huge argument and everything. I heard there was a lot of fire and lightning involved."

"No, I heard it was ice. He froze the floor around the poor sod and pushed him down the stairs. Explains the puddle." Puddle my ass; I cleaned it until it was drier than Greagoir's sense of humor.

"Regardless, I heard he left Anders and has been crying in the apprentice dorms for the whole bleedin' day." Me? Cry? For _that_ long?

"I heard he broke it off because he was interested in someone else." Okay, that was plausible. I had taken a somewhat obvious affection for Karl throughout the day.

"Wait, you mean neither of you heard? Amell left Anders because he never really loved him. Anders was just a quick fix for his frustrations. You know what I mean Tom." A grunt in the background before he continued. "Anyways, I heard he's really got his heart set for Cullen."

Wait… rewind!

"No! Really?" Yeah, really?

"I heard it too. Right after Amell broke up with Anders, Cullen came by to see if he was alright, slipped on that patch of ice, and then kissed Amell right then and there. Couldn't hold his feelings back anymore, I suppose." The book in my hand fell to the ground, but no one even bothered to look.

"I heard it was Amell who started the kiss. He was such an emotional wreck, couldn't take it anymore. I heard he confessed it to the girl who always prays in the chapel, how he longed to be with the man forever, but knew it was a desperate hope."

"He confessed his undying love?" No, no I didn't!

"Well, he confessed wanting to give Cullen all the love, adoration and attention he deserved, at least." I didn't do that either…

"How sweet. I know it won't stand a blighted chance, but I can't help but to hope it works out between them somehow. Star crossed lovers, how romantic." Some girl sighed.

"I heard Rylford feels so strongly about Cullen that he said he'd consider becoming tranquil if it could bring him and the templar together at last."

There was a collective gasp from the entire group, and maybe one of my own. Tranquility was a big 'hush hush, don't even think about it' kind of thing. If someone said they would undertake it to be with someone, they meant business. I know it was stupid, but I felt tears start to prickle at my eyes when they all dissented into shocked coos and giggles. When I got angry and upset at the same time, tears were bound to flow. I was about to go charging in there to demand which one of them said it, but a loud and sudden clanking of armor against stone caught everyone's attention.

"Cullen?" a mage asked ponderously. I had a feeling of dread as I looked across the room, into the wide and utterly confused eyes of a templar with curled copper hair, blinking his amber eyes up at everyone. The moment my body was visible to the group, they swiveled their attention to me and gasped. I could have killed something when one of the tears of FRUSTRATION in my eyes freed itself and rolled down my cheek.

They all gasped and came forward to comfort me, and I saw the strangest look come across Cullen's face, some kind of anguish I couldn't understand, constantly tinted by confusion.

Fantastic. The Tower's very first dramatic story of two star crossed lovers; a chivalrous Templar and a love struck Mage. Just as I was about to see my first actual _lover_.

Andraste's knicker-weasels, they sacrificed the virgin.

* * *

^_^ tell me what ya thought~!


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